Knowing and Wondering
by KidsNurse
Summary: Updated. 'Knowing' is an introspective vignette wherein House considers why Wilson stays. 'Wondering' is the same scene from Wilson's POV, as he explores the question and hopes he can answer it to House's satisfaction.
1. Knowing: House's POV

**A/N: **An odd little thing, written in the middle of the night under the influence of Tylenol PM and a couple of Twinkies…. x-posted to LiveJournal.

**KNOWING**

House pretends that the pain in his leg hasn't exceeded the ability of the Vicodin to control it, but he knows that Wilson isn't buying it. He continues to pretend anyway, because he must.

House's eyes are shuttered against Wilson's compassion; he won't meet Wilson's eyes with his own, because he knows that if he allows himself to feel the empathy radiating from his friend, he'll break. He'll let the pain pull him under, and then he'll have to admit how bad it is, and then they'll both hurt, they'll both drown in it, and Wilson will know that House is weak and scared and overwhelmingly grateful that he isn't facing down the pain alone. And then House will, figuratively, crawl into that warm, soothing, safe embrace that Wilson is offering with his eyes. And he'll exhale, in the shuddering hitch of a child who's been crying for too many hours, and who finally admits exhaustion, finally embraces the comfort that's been there all along. And then Wilson will know how weak he is, how tired. Wilson will know how strong the pain is, and how very hard House has to fight it. And then, House knows, Wilson will know exactly how much protection House really needs, how damaged House really is, and Wilson will go away.

So, as Wilson silently offers everything that keeps House alive, that keeps him safe, House tries very, very hard to pretend that he's unaware of it. Because House knows that—as long as Wilson isn't aware that, without him, House would allow the pain to drown him—Wilson will stay.

As long as House can continue to pretend that he's alone, he'll never be alone. As the pain continues to swirl in tightening, angry, smothering circles around him, House knows only this one good thing—Wilson will always be here, because House will never ask him to stay.


	2. Wondering: Wilson's POV

**WONDERING** (companion to _Knowing_)

**Title: **_Wondering_  
**Rating: **G  
**Characters: **Wilson, House (friendship)  
**Summary: **This is a long overdue companion piece to _**Knowing**_ in which House explores his belief about why Wilson stays, and what could cause him to leave. In _Wondering_, it's Wilson's turn to explore the question--and to _answer_ it.

_**Wondering **_(Wilson's POV)

Wilson simply stands there, leaning against the wall, posture open and relaxed--inviting House to accept what comfort he can offer. House's pain is bad, worse than usual, and it's reflected in House's mood, in the way House's own posture is closed-in; his body curls protectively into itself. It's clearest in the way House won't meet Wilson's eyes.

Wilson suddenly remembers an article he'd read, a study of the psychological implications of serious illness in adopted kids. One line comes back to him: _Many of these children see their illness as the ultimate test of the question that's always been on their minds; "will they desert me now?" _The article had gone on to say that adopted children never overcome the feeling that if they weren't good enough for their birth parents, they can never be good enough for anyone else; their entire lives turn into an exhausting test--_What will I finally do to push you away?_ Wilson's not sure why watching House has reminded him of this, but the connection makes him sad nonetheless.

He's spent a lot of time, over the years, wondering what he could say, what he could do, to convince House that he'll always be around. He'd thought, for a while, that he'd truly messed it up, leaving House on the floor last Christmas Eve. He could tell that House thought he'd really torn it that time--had found a way to push Wilson out, had proven his theory that everyone would leave him eventually.

What House had been unable to figure out, though, is that--while Wilson had _walked out_ that night--it was only in the physical sense. He'd never _left_; not emotionally--he couldn't. Wouldn't. Didn't even _want _to_. Oh, House. What can I say? I'm here because I want to be here. I'm here because you're worth all the crap. I'm __not__ here because you need me; I could never pity you._

Wilson walks into the bedroom and returns with a couple of pillows and a blanket; he tosses it all to House. "Get comfortable; looks like you're stuck there a while." 

House lets the bedding fall to the floor. "_You're_ not. I'm fine. Go."

Wilson sighs quietly, then walks to the couch and retrieves the linens. He puts the pillows on the end of the couch and covers House with the blanket. House twists his mouth, but when he doesn't protest, Wilson chances sitting down next to him, just inches away, hoping that House can feel the caring he's trying so hard to telegraph. After a full minute of silence, Wilson takes a chance. He doesn't look at House when he speaks.

"I'm not going anywhere, ya know. Not now." Wilson turns his head and meets House's dubious eyes. "Not ever."

Now House is the one to look away, as Wilson continues to study his face. "That a promise or a threat?" House's voice is dry, and his eyes are amused and challenging. But Wilson's already seen the truth--the vulnerability, the fear House had instantly masked as he'd turned his head away.

Wilson takes a deep breath, and in that moment, it comes to him--the answer. The only _right_ answer. He smiles at House, and then allows his expression to grow serious. "Neither one. It's your favorite thing, House--a _fact_. Not a promise to break, not a threat to hold over your head. A fact. Black and white. Plain and simple. Inarguable. Just... a fact."

House leans his head against the back of the couch and closes his eyes. "A fact," he repeats, almost in a whisper. "Inarguable."

And then, as Wilson watches, House pulls in a long, shuddering breath and lets it go. He opens his eyes, looks directly at Wilson, and nods.

Wilson stands and grabs one of the pillows, arranges it gently under House's right leg, and watches as House's body relaxes, as House finally sinks into the comfort that's always been there, all along.


End file.
